


Lycoris Radiata

by Living_On_My_Own



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Brian is needs to man up, Depression, F/M, Freddie just wants to be wanted, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Post-Break Up, Roger is the best best friend ever, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, and needs to be there for Freddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26183917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_On_My_Own/pseuds/Living_On_My_Own
Summary: Freddie smiles at him, but it's not the smile the drummer usually loves so much. The one that makes the singer's whole face light up, that makes his eyes shine and little wrinkles lay around them. The one that shows all his teeth he usually hides, when he smiles like that, he doesn't care about them. Instead, it's a small smile, one that let his eyes stay sad and his face stay pained with what wanders in his head."Don't worry, darling! I'm okay!" He says.
Relationships: Brian May/Chrissie Mullen, Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

He does't feel happy. Not at all. The nights are usually dark like that. But tonight there is no one holding him. David is gone. Probably forever. He's gone with his other boyfriend, they're probably sleeping together in the same bed, they're probably in each other's arms.

He cant't get that image out of his head. He just sees the man he loves with his whole heart on top of someone else. In the bed they shared for months. He can remember hearing their gasps and moans even before he had opened the door. He could hear them in the whole flat.

The night had never been as dark as tonight. It feels frightening, like it's never going to end. He doesn't think he'll ever feel happy again. Because he's never felt so depressed, and usually he doesn't have a lot of hope, but he's always surprised when he had been wrong.

He didn't call anyone. He just sat on his couch since it happened. It was 2 in the afternoon. Now it's already 11 pm. He doesn't have the strength to call Roger, the person he usually talks to when he doesn't feel good. He doesn't want anyone to take him out of his misery and Roger would only try and cheer him up. He didn't call John, because Freddie is like a big brother to him, it'd be too embarrassing.

He thought about Brian. Brian with the soft voice and the adorable smile that made him feel something different than any other smile. Brian that he knows would know what it feels like. But maybe he's sad too tonight. And Brian likes to be alone when it happened, and if he doen't he has Chrissie. Freddie would never want to bother him.

He doesn't think he can breathe anymore. Because he feels so empty. Because his thoughts are so loud in the quiet of the flat. He just wants to go to sleep, just to find out if it's better in the morning. But he can't ever go back in the bedroom. He would see the picture of him and David on the nightstand. He would smell David and his boyfriend on the sheets. He knows he'd never be able to sleep on the couch.

Tomorrow they're gonna be working in the studio. He'll be exhausted. There are not many things he could do. He doesn't feel like drinking alcohol, it just makes the thoughts even louder usually. Tea doesn't seem appealing. Nothing seems appealing anymore. Everything's so dull and boring. He doesn't even feel like listening to music, and it scares him. Because he always wants to listen to music.

Suddenly, he feels the tears burning the back of his throat. He doesn't want to cry, he isn't sure he even wants to live. Because he doesn't know what's left to live for. Would the boys be sad if he's not there? If they go to the studio to never see him open the door again after being late? Would they even cry for him? He knows he should, but he doesn't know the answers.

He takes the notebook that had been left there after the last time he had written lyrics. The pen shakes slightly in his almost frail hands. The words come out too quickly on the paper. Why is it so easy?

_That's what people do, isn't it? Write a note, a note to say goodbye, to say sorry, to explain._

_David left me, he cheated on me, in our own bed. He didn't seem apologetic. He told me it had been going on for weeks, that I wasn't the one. I didn't have the courage to say anything to him. He took his things and left. I can't cope._

_Don't blame yourselves for what's inevitable. I can't find any reason for me to still be here. I was already broken, now I'm not sure I'm even reparable._

_I'm sorry for not being able to say this face to face. I don't have the courage to look into each of your eyes and tell you I no longer feel like living. I love you too much to let you boys see me like that._

_I hope you'll always remember me as your bubbly and sometimes very annoying best friend,_

_Freddie._

He looks at the no longer empty sheet of paper. His eyes scan over every word. He feels overwhelmed, by his feelings, everything. He feels afraid of what he's ready to do, only to end the excruciating pain he feels in his heart. He shut closed the notebook in front of him.

He takes the phone and calls Brian. Because he can't bear it anymore, because just the idea of Brian being there makes everything a bit less dark.

"Brian?" He immediately says when it stops ringing, his voice is raw, like he has sung for hours.

"Freddie?"

A long silence settles in. The singer can't find himself to say anything. He feels bad. What is he doing, calling his friend so late, probably bothering him in his sleep. His throat feels tight as more and more panic fills him.

"Freddie?" Brian calls again.

"Can you come to my flat? Please? I- I can't be alone tonight." Freddie still asks, he hates how weak his voice sounds.

The tears burn his eyes, the silence scares him. He's alone, alone in this appartment he thought he would share forever with the one he loved. It's dark, and so so so lonely.

"I'm coming, okay? I'll be here in a few minutes." The guitarist replies.

He knows sometimes the singer can become anxious when he's alone, because of his childhood he becomes scared of being abandonned. Brian tried countless times to make him talk about it, to not bottle it up. But the pianist is stubborn and never once explained it, he can't do it. It's too deep in him.

When Brian is just outside Freddie's door, he knocks on the door. It's opened quickly, and Freddie looks at him as if the world just fell apart in front of his eyes. He's never looked so hopeless and it makes Brian hug him. He can understand, only by looking in his eyes for a few seconds, he knows how he's feeling. He understands.

The older eventually steps aside to let the guitarist enter his flat. Inside, it still smells like Freddie, sweet and subtle. But it looks so dark with only one weak light opened. Brian wonders how long his best friend has stayed in the dark like that before deciding to call him. He hopes it hasn't been too long, that he hasn't waited too many hours, probably wondering if anyone would listen to him. If anyone would bother taking him in their arms, taking his hands to make the words come out easier.

The singer leaves the room, telling his friend he's gonna make tea. He leaves Brian in the living room, on the couch. Something catches his eyes, a little notebook. He knows he shouldn't, but he opens it. He's always loved reading the curves of the pencil Freddie has put onto the paper, words that he knows he will then hear coming from Freddie's mouth beautifully.

_That's what people do, isn't it? Write a letter, a letter to say goodbye, to say sorry, to explain._

The words hit Brian so hard. More than anything has ever hit him. He reads quickly the next phrases. He'd always known Freddie wasn't always as happy as he seemed, but he never thought he would read a letter like that, a suicide letter, from him. Brian can remember well writing his own, the one he had thrown away the next day when he realised how stupid he was being, it wasn't the solution.

_"It's so dark and lonely in here." Freddie whispers._

_"I know, tell me sooner next time it's like that."_

_______   
  


"Oh, that's so cool! Can I come like last time?" Freddie asks with that smile that doesn't resist anyone.

For so many weeks Brian had brought Freddie everywhere with him. He was scared of anything happening, of Freddie breaking, of Freddie doing it. _Killing himself._ Chrissie was tired of it, she told Brian this needed to end, that she couldn't bare any more seconds in his company. She said she needed alone time with Brian. That she didn't get into a relationship with him to be with Freddie too.

Freddie doesn't know it. Of course he doesn't. Brian would never have the courage to tell him somthing that could hurt him, that could make him feel worse. He's stuck. Stuck between his girlfriend that he _loves_ and his best friend that _adores_. He can't imagine telling Freddie to back away, because Chrissie doesn't want to see him. He erases the thought in his mind each time he thinks about breaking up with his girlfriend. The girlfriend he talked with about getting married, about starting a family. 

He hopes he never really has to make a choice.

"Of cour-" Brian tries to say, but he's stopped by his girlfriend.

"No, Brian. He's not invited." She says.

It's makes the singer feel uneasy inside. There's this thing inside him that's been hidden for so long, but he can feel it closer now. The darkness.

"We can barely do anything without you, Freddie! I haven't been able to have one moment alone with my boyfriend because you're always there, wether you're invited or not! We're tired of you being there for every single time we go out!" Chrissie explains, her voice getting louder as she talks.

He'd been doing so well. So so well. He thought he was finished with the emptiness, with all the thoughts. He was okay! It's not fair, how all this progress is taken away from him so quickly with such simple but hurtful words.

_Tired of you._

He's still not wanted.

He gets up quickly, ignoring his chair that falls backwards. Everyone is staring at him, like they want to apologise for not wanting him. It's too much, the darkness is creeping back up, it's in his throat, taking away all of his air. It's in his head, making all his thoughts spin over and over again with no pause. It's in whole body, it makes his legs and hands shake violently.

He doesn't know what to say so he just walks away. He's never put boots on so quickly. His fur coat will be wet with the London rain. He opens the front door, the quiet of the house is replaced by the loud wind and the deafening rain. But it doesn't rain, it pours, like the tears on his face. The sky lights up with the occasional lightening bolts.

Roger is running after him, yelling his name so loud, but he barely hears him.

"Go away." He exclaims.

He doesn't want anyone with him, he wants quiet, peace. But Roger isn't willing to give him that. All Freddie can think about is about all those moments he had spent with the boys, feeling like a part of something beautiful, something that could never be ruined. He had fooled himself, thinking he was the one meant to be there, that he was wanted.

"Go fucking away!" He yells when Roger stays so close to him.

He wants to shove him against a wall, he wants to yell at him, to ask him why they made him believe he meant something to them. He wanted to yell at him for making him think he was important to someone, that he counted. He wants to ask why, why they've been so cruel.

He walks home, he knows it's so far away, but he doesn't have the courage to get into a cab and have to talk. He doesn't know if he can get out any words at this point. Not after that, not after being broken apart piece by piece. He doesn't know if the pieces can ever be glued together again.

He's never giving his heart to anyone again.


	2. Chapter 2

When Freddie looks at him and he doesn't know what to say or what to do. He just wants to go back in time, to understand how this could have gotten to this point. His heart is wrecked so he can't begin to know the pain Freddie must be feeling. He's never felt so helpless in his entire life.

He's surprised Freddie let him in today. He doesn't know why today, he didn't let anyone in for so many days. He hasn't come to the studio for days. John, Brian and Roger have spent hours sat, waiting, sending each other worried glances. Everybody's been waiting anxiously for something to change, for Freddie to come back, hopefully with the most sincere smile on his face and full of energy. But he hasn't come one time.

_"Can you go see him Roger? Please. I-I found something a few months. It's scares me. I'm afraid he'll do something something stupid."_

_"What did you find?"_

_"I-It's a letter. A suicide letter. It scared the shit out of me. So I spent as much time as much time with me as I could. Chrissie got annoyed of it and blamed everything on him. We're finished, I told her I wouldn't accept her acting like that with my best friend. Gosh I hate her so fucking much, Rog!"_

_"I saw him cry that night, when I followed him outside."_

_"I know and it's fucking killing me! Please, just makes sure he's okay. He won't want me there, I'm so scared he'll do something stupid."_

_"Of course I will, I'm worried too."_

Freddie smiles at him, but it's not the smile the drummer usually loves so much. The one that makes the singer's whole face light up, that makes his eyes shine and little wrinkles lay around them. The one that shows all his teeth he usually hides, when he smiles like that, he doesn't care about them. Instead, it's a small smile, one that let his eyes stay sad and his face stay pained with what wanders in his head.

"Don't worry, darling! I'm okay!" He says, but it's not heartfelt like Roger had wished it had been.

"You don't need to stay, dear. I'll be fine on my own. Isn't Domininque wondering where you are? I bet she wants to spend the night with you." He continues.

Maybe Roger should have been offended, unwanted in his friend's house. But he knows that's not the case. He can see it in Freddie's eyes, that thing that screams at him to go away, to not bother caring about him, to spend time with people that are worth it. The blonde can see just how much Freddie wants to be alone, just to do something stupid.

_"He kept telling me that maybe I should leave. He kept repeating that he was okay. He wasn't okay, Bri. I found it on his bed, that letter you were talking about. It wasn't in his notebook, the sheet of paper was lying in the middle of his bed."_

_"What did you do?"_

_"I stayed with him, slept in his bed because he wouldn't let me take the couch. I don't know what to do. I'm still there and he still looks at me as if nobody ever bothered to be with him. Please come, please talk to him."_

The movie continues as if nothing ever happened. Freddie is still sitting so far away from the blonde, as if he's afraid he'd hurt him with a simple touch. He sometimes looks at Roger as if he doesn't know why someone would be watching a movie with him. Like this incident that happened made him forget all the times people wanted him. He's not watching whatever movie Roger and him decided to watch.

He wonders why the drummer is there, why he bothered to come. He wonders if it's because they still need him for the band, maybe he'll eventually pop out the question, if he's ever gonna come back to the studio. He doesn't think he'll come back to the studio. When Roger leaves him alone, he knows he won't have much time left. Maybe it's pity, he wonders. And then suddenly he can't erase that thought from his mind. He sees all Roger's smiles full of pity, pity for the boy that nobody wants anymore, the boy unwanted from his whole family, from his friends. He should have known. Roger doesn't want him either.

He wants everything to go black, he wants every sound to stop, he wants Roger to leave, to let him feel how he's supposed to feel, alone. He wants to finally use that blade that he has stared at for too long earlier, but he can't with the younger man there, it wouldn't be fair on him. Not after going through all the trouble of going to see him when he probably never meant much to him. Even after all those years, Freddie's just that annoying guy that stuck around for too long. He called Roger his best friend all those times and Roger called him that too, he should have noticed it was fake, that all those smiles thrown at him were only fake.

_"He didn't watch the movie one second. He just stared at nothing. I think he was thinking, probably about you, or about those words Chrissie said."_

_"Is he okay, Rog?"_

_"No, he's really not. Do something, please. It's driving me mad! You're the only one that can make it better. I saw how he looked at you when you didn't look at him. You're the one that matters the most, that's why he called you that night and not anyone else."_

The movie ends after a while. Roger notices how the Persian is still staring into the distance. It was supposed to be a comedy, but the singer didn't laugh once. He hasn't looked happy once since that day, since those words were said and couldn't be taken back. Since that moment when everything fell apart. The drummer had really thought those horrible words would be laughed at by Freddie, that he would have replied with a cheeky grin and deeply annoyed eyes. But the words had hit too close to the deep wound that had barely started to heal inside him. She didn't give him enough time, enough time to make himself believe without a doubt that he was enough, that people loved him for who he was.

"Maybe we should sleep, Fred. You look exhausted." Roger insists.

The older nods before offering the other his bed. He simply takes the blanket the closest to him and lays down on the couch that is way too little for his lanky form. Roger doesn't have time to protest before his eyes are tightly shut. He can hear the drummer whispering a good night before walking up the stairs to the bedroom, where he left that piece of paper, the one he forgets about.

Roger lies down on the insanely comfortable matress, not without removing the letter that makes his eyes go damp each time he reads it. He wishes he could know what is best friend is thinking about at this exact moment. He wants to know what he can do to make him believe how much he's loved and how wrong Chrissie has truly been. He wants to take the pain away, the one that he knows makes the singer want to die. The word hurts each time he thinks about it, but he needs to accept them if he wants to make it better.

The sleep comes with troubled dreams. Dreams that he wishes to never come true.

When Freddie wakes up the next morning, Roger is gone, and he leaves a burning pain in Freddie's chest, something that he knows will never go away. He wishes the drummer had told him, his eyes in his, how they couldn't bare him any longer. The kind of words that make the dark cast that's already on his eyes even darker. The kind of words that make his whole head fill with thoughts that never go away. The kind of words that make his whole body tremble in despair and darkness. At least Chrissie has been honest, it's a shame he can't tell her thank you in time. He doesn't have time.

He can remember those words he's been told over and over again.

_It's just gonna end up hurting._

_It's gonna kill you._

_It's gonna kill you._

_It's gonna kill you._

_ITS GONNA KILL YOU._

It's already killing him.

He sits on the cold tiles of the bathroom, the little piece of metal is sitting in his trembling hands. He takes it to his wrist, tracing the first line, not deep yet. The pain feels grounding. He feels suddenly powerful. There's nothing to hurt him anymore, nothing stopping him. The first drop of blood comes out, and he feels fascinated by it. He's in control, no one can stop him now. He feels the urge to extend that red line that stings with the contact of the air. He doesn't feel like crying anymore. He feels at peace like he's never felt before. He digs the metal piece further in, he wants to scream with the pain, but at least it makes his head shut up. Everything is so silent and he can't get enough of it.

When there's a knock on the front door he wants to yell at the person to go away. He's okay now. He's so so so okay. He can't breathe, but he doesn't panic. He can't breathe, but it doesn't matter, not anymore. He's never felt so okay before. He couldn't ever hope for better than that. He knows it's ending soon enough and the thought of that is making everything better.

The knocks on the door get louder, the only thing left to ruin everything. He puts the blade away, covers his wrist with his sleeve. He's quickly on his feet, but his head is cloudy and everything feels so far away. He opens the door of the bathroom and he's hit with cold air leaving goosebumps on his exposed skin. He hasn't looked at himself since so long, but he doesn't bring himself to care.

When he opens the front door, he can see hazel eyes and brown hair. Everything's blurry, but he stills knows who this is. He can recognise his odour and how tall he is. The pain he had ignored for hours is back in full force, it punches him in the face, it hits him in the stomach.

"B-Brian?" He whispers.

Arms are wrapped around him, for the first time in so long. He doesn't realise how much he missed it until he feels the warmth enveloping his ice cold body.

"Oh, I missed you so much, Freddie." Brian says quietly after a few seconds of silence.

He wants to ask why he's lying like that. Why is he even here? But his throat feels too tight and he won't be able to talk at all. There's so much he could say, so much he could cry, so much he could scream. But nothing seems good enough.

"I was worried about you. She was lying, Freddie. Gosh it was all lies. I love having you with us, with me. I just love hanging out with you, and you're incredible. And I can't even believe that you think that we don't want you, because you're our best friend. And we love you so much." Brian whispers.

It makes the tears Freddie has held in for so long escape. He sobs, and he's never cried so loudly. He's used to hiding his cries when one of his last partners were sleeping on the other side of the bed. He's used of covering his mouth so tightly with his hand to block out the cries. He doesn't want anyone seeing him. It's embarrassing. He doesn't want to bother anyone.

But now he just lets go. They're still only halfway through the door, so Brian leads them to the living room where he sits them on the couch. He's relieved Freddie has let him in, that he stills wants to talk to him. He knows it has never been anger, it only ever was pain.

He can feel tears trickling down his neck. He doesn't care, he doesn't care because he's here, and Freddie's here, and he hasn't done anything when he wasn't there. He pulls away slowly, because he wants to talk to the singer, look at him in the eyes and really talk to him.

The Persian's eyes are red and still puffy. His cheeks are red from the embarrassment. Brian takes his hand carefully, then turn it so the palm is to the ceiling. He slides the sleeve up his arm. Because he knows, he doesn't know how, but he knows.

There is blood, only a few droplets, but it's enough for Brian to feel sick. Because he can see the mark his best friend has made, only because he wants to be gone. The guitarist delicately traces over the red fine line with his thumb. His eyes fall onto the face of the pianist. He looks scared, as if Brian is gonna push him away, tell him how crazy he is, make him get sad enough for him to take back the metal piece and get it over with.

"I'm sorry." The older replies shakily.

He covers his mouth with his hand that's free and for the second time today, he cries. There's no sound but his short occasional gasps. He doesn't know how to make Brian stay at this point.

"It's okay. It's okay. I understand." Brian reassures.

This time, when they hug, it feels different. It's not them reuniting, it's them fighting. Fighting against something that's more powerful than anything. Something that makes so many give up. Something that's deadly when it gets out of control. Something that made the injury happen. Something that takes so long to get over, but that always can be beaten. Brian knows it well, and he knows he can now make sure Freddie beats it.

_____

Freddie has calmed down. He's still feels ashamed and powerless. But Brian's calm and kindness almost makes him want to confess everything. To just blurt our everything going through his mind. But it'd take too long.

"I love you." He just ends up saying.

It means so much, yet it's barely anything. But he means it. And he knows it's not a stupid thing, that he's not saying it like he says it to Roger. Roger. He needs to apologise to him. For how bad of a friend he has been to him.   
It's an 'I love you' he never had the strength to say to David. An 'I love you' he never knew he would be saying in his life.

Brian's gets it. He doesn't need it to be explained. He knows. And he doesn't hesitate to prove he feels the same way with the softest kiss he can pull off. He pulls away just barely enough time to say the words back before colliding his lips back on Freddie's.

He knows it doesn't solve everything, that there's still so much more to fix and to talk about. But it's just a step forward, a tiny step, but it's as important as any other steps.

_____

Brian is depressed today and Freddie knows it. He noticed how he's staying in bed instead of joining him, even for the breakfast. He notices how silent he is when Freddie talks to him. He notices how he stares into the distance when he isn't there to distract him.

He wants to make it better.

He walks through the door of the bedroom. Brian is still laying on the bed, with his eyes closed. But he's not asleep, because there's still that frown on his face and Freddie wants to make it go away quickly, if possible. The singer gets under the covers quietly. He knows it'll annoy Brian if he comes in too excited, like an uncontrollable kid. He can remember David telling him to stop acting like that.

_"Stop flapping your arms around like that. You look retarded."_

"Briaaan, come on, get up. We're gonna go on a walk." He whispers.

"I'm not in the mood, Freddie."

The Persian knows his boyfriend isn't okay. He usually calls him with sweet names. He loves being called baby. He can barely remember the last time Brian has called him by his name. He needs to remind himself that he doesn't mean it, that it's not his fault. He knows he could get easily lost in trying to help Brian and just ending up worse than him.

"It'll be fun, darling. Let me help you." He replies.

He puts his hands on Brian's cheek. Usually the guitarist likes it, but today he pulls his hand away and grumbles a few words.

"If you wanna help then just go away. Stop being so clingy."

Freddie knows it's just the depression talking. He knows it! But his heart is still hammering, because he's not fully fixed either. Because even if he threw away his blade months ago and he feels happy, there's still a bit of it left, hidden away in a corner of his head, and it just waits for the right time to come out.

He gets up from the bed, and no matter how much he tells himself he can't take it personal, that Brian doesn't mean it, he feels crushed. As if he's been told something horrible. He wants to tell Brian, to fall onto his knees and tell him, that he tries to make him happy. That it's all he's ever wanted. He just wishes so hard that he's a part of what makes Brian happy.

There's that lump again in his throat, the one that comes always so quickly. He loves Brian with his whole life and he's never been so happy with anyone else before. Brian loves him too, he does, doesn't he? But even if it was the case, is it enough? Is he really what Brian wants? He wonders if the guitarist has ever looked at anyone else and thought they'd make a better boyfriend or girlfriend.

His head is spinning with thoughts.

_No, please._

His heart hurts so bad.

_No, come on, no!_

He wants to di-

_No, no, no. Not again. Not this time._

"Freddie, baby?"

He hadn't noticed when the tears fell first. He's silent, he always is. But Brian knows him too well.

"Baby, come here, come on. Come here." Brian says quietly.

His steps are as light as a feather, but he still feels so heavy. He's not ready, he's not ready to come back to how he was before. He's happy, he wants it to stay like that. All the work he's put can't just go away so quickly, just because of a few words. Words that are probably true, anyway. But he's enveloped by Brian's arms and suddenly he feels lightly, everything is quieter.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean it, I swear. I'm just not feeling great today. I shouldn't have lashed it out on you when you've been so good and understanding." The guitarist explains.

His tears are kissed away by tender lips.

"Do you love me?" The Persian whispers.

He doesn't really doubt it. Maybe he does a bit more deeply, but it's not the point of the question. He just needs to hear it. He loves hearing it, he knows it makes him clingy, but it makes him happy. It always makes all the pieces fall into places, it heals his sometimes a bit beaten up heart. It soothes his soul even in the hardest moments.

"I love you so much, baby. I swear, I love you and I couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else."

"I know,"he answers with a smile, his lips almost reaching his pinky and happy cheeks. "I just needed to hear you say it."

He's okay, he's perfectly happy. Maybe he's clingy, but Brian is still there, so it doesn't bother him, doesn't it? He's there and he's never ever leaving him. And knowing that is all it takes to make Freddie feel better and happy again.

"I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hesitate to comment, I'd love to hear what you guys think of this! Don't forget to leave a kudo ;)


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